


Peep Toe Peep Show

by gala_apples



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Alternate Universe - Vloggers, Apologies, Crossdressing, Kink Shaming, Multi, Slut Shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 06:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15334158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Ryan knows what he likes is wrong, and lashes out when his friends try to tell him differently. They persist in changing his mind.





	Peep Toe Peep Show

**Author's Note:**

> written for the crossdressing prompt for seasonofkink.
> 
> Links to articles chosen are in the text.

It starts one Tuesday afternoon, simple as that. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that’s when Ryan blows up. It’s a feeling that’s been building for awhile. 

This time, the trigger is helping Meg go through Pinterest for new trends. As a professional vlogging personality she needs to always be wearing the cool new look. Ryan’s clicked his way into a punk rock style section, and someone has pinned a pair of gun high heels. The heel of the shoe is the barrel of the gun, tall and gleaming silver. The slope is steep, necessitating a platform beneath the toe. The whole sole has a plastic metallic sheen that doesn’t quite match the gunmetal. And then there’s the straps. The top transversing the ankle is riveted, classic punk style. The toe strap is covered in bullets, keeping on theme. It’s the kind of shit that drills directly into Ryan’s id, the kind that makes him instantly hard, like a punch in the stomach. 

“Why the fuck can’t I be a girl,” Ryan shouts. “It’s just such bullshit.” 

Ryan knows he should regret shouting when Meg’s studio door opens and she sticks her head out of the frame to make eye contact. Or lack thereof, since she doesn’t have her glasses on because she’s in the middle of a makeup tutorial. He’s clearly interrupted her recording. A big no no. A slim few are allowed to come over when she’s creating a video, and only because she can trust them to shut the fuck up and do something unobtrusive until she’s done.

“What?”

Thing is, Ryan doesn’t regret shouting. He’s frustrated, and it’s an issue more people should be aware of. It’s fucking stupid how every piece of clothing is so goddamn gendered. He stomps over to her, soft Hanes cotton socks making not a sound on the area rug. “Look at these fucking shoes.” He shoves the iPad in front of her face, close enough that her blind ass can see the image. “Aren’t they the goddamn hottest thing you’ve ever seen? And they’re women’s, of course. No one else is allowed to have them, only women. Girls always get the cool clothes.”

“Buy them.”

“They’re women’s, didn’t you hear me?” Did she get some foundation in her ears?

“Wear them anyway.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can. Come here.” Meg pulls on Ryan’s hand, tugs him into her studio, and pushes him towards the computer. She’s doing some kind of recording with Jeremy, or as his followers think of him, Lil J. 

“Hey, J. Ryan wants to wear these heels. You think that’s cool?” Meg flashes the iPad at the camera.

“You’d look fuckin’ great, pal.” 

Ryan can’t help but feel snappy. He really wants the fucking shoes but he can't have the shoes. Maybe they can fuckwith clothing, being medium rich vloggers, but Ryan has to live in real world Los Santos. “Not all of us went to art school, Jeremy.”

“Okay, then. Someone can’t handle their shit yet. Meg, we good with diversion? Can we go back to the video now?”

“Ryan. Seriously. Consider it. The leather around your ankles, the way they make your hips pop and change your posture. Wouldn’t that be good, even just as an experience?”

“Stop it,” he says. He retreats to the living room. He’s not quite ready to do his job again, to stir up even more jealousy, but he sure the hell doesn’t want to stay in the room and subject himself to their discussion. 

After a while Ryan hears the front door open. He gets up to go see whoever’s coming in. Maybe forewarn them about making sure not to make noise, since someone -cough cough- has already fucked that up one today. 

It’s Gavin, Meg’s on again off again boyfriend, and fellow vlogger. It’s actually one of her frequent post types, boyfriend updates. Not that she’s using him. It’s a fair trade, Gavin providing a storyline for Meg, Meg providing a reaction to the pranks and slo mo explosions. Usually Ryan would be, if not happy to see Gavin, at least neutral. It’s none of his business, how they can still try again and again. 

Today is not a usual day. Today he’s been pushed to the brink about the things he can’t have, lectured by people who don’t understand. And there Gavin is, clad in his typical purple button down shirt. Only what he’s wearing with it... he’s got on denim short shorts, hems ripped, patches of denim purposely frayed. His choice of footwear are knee high black boots, platform heels. Add a skull somewhere and it’s the look of Ryan’s dreams. One of those ones you hide from yourself to not hurt yourself. 

“Fuck you!”

“Wot?” he asks, word garbled past American understanding. The syllable leaves Gavin’s mouth open, and for just a second Ryan wants to put his dick in it. Let the jealousy and the attraction intermingle. But then the jealousy blooms, like yeast in sugar water. In an instant Ryan’s drowning in hate shaded mental foam.

“Fuck you, you fucking slut. What couples home did you even wear that in? The Ramseys? Michael and Lindsay’s? Kyle and Miles? Or did you go home with a pair of strangers, no idea what they would do to you, just thinking you could handle whatever?”

“Ryan!”

“I’m so fucking sick of never doing what I want, when I’m surrounded by whores and thieves in this wicked city.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Gavin shouts at him.

Ryan shakes his head. He’s not having this conversation again, not getting told by a third person to do whatever he wants when it’s not that easy. “Just, just fuck you, Gavin. I’m leaving this hell forsaken place.”

With that he opens and slams the door in quick succession. He’s in his Infernus, zooming down the street in seconds. A car he’s desperately wanted to but hasn’t custom painted because it’s yet another thing he shouldn’t do.

In his apartment later he begins to regret the harsh words. It’s not Gavin’s fault that they have different standards. Not really. Ryan can see that, when he takes a step back and removes his feelings from the equation. He’s almost fully talked himself down when the buzzer for the building’s front door goes off. It’s Meg, and Ryan knows as she demands to be let in that he’s not getting out of this. He presses accept to let her in, and resigns himself to an earned lecture about directing his anger towards those who don’t deserve it.

Ryan’s not expecting Gavin to enter with Meg, but it makes sense. She’s a very stand up for yourself kind of person. Of course she’d pressure Gavin into getting his apology face to face, instead of text.

“Look man. Sorry. It’s none of my business who you fuck, and when.”

“S’okay. I know you were just really minged off.” 

“Yeah, still though.”

“I’ve got something for you. I’ll just scurry and get it won’t I. I didn’t bring it up in case you weren’t going to let us in.”

“I buzzed you in, but I’d keep the door locked?”

“I told him it was stupid too, but-” Meg shrugs.

“Be right back,” Gavin says, and goes right back out.

“While he’s gone, I want to warn you. There’s a good chance he’s going to offer a threesome. He wants to reestablish your friendship, and that’s what sex is to him. Think about your answer now, so you can answer respectfully if it comes up.”

“But, threesome?”

Meg shrugs again. “Sometimes sex is just a good happy workout. I’m okay with that.”

Ryan’s not sure he is, but Meg’s right. He owes Gavin a non slut shaming answer.

His favourite little golden boy comes bag in holding a dry cleaners clothing bag. It doesn’t surprise Ryan Gavin doesn’t do his own laundry. He just doesn’t know what dry cleaning has to do with himself.

“So Meg explained why you’re so minged off. This should fix it.” Gavin thrusts the black plastic bag at him, and for lack of a better option, Ryan takes it. It’s heavier than expected. 

It’s a bit awkward to hold it in one hand and unzip it with the other, but Ryan manages. Inside is nothing so tame as lingerie. Instead it’s Ryan’s definition of sex incarnate. It’s [black silky panties with lace edges, two rows of shiny light pink skulls spanning the front](https://www.etsy.com/ca/listing/476483979/skull-lingerie-dark-lingerie-goth?ref=shop_home_active_9). It’s a [lace up leather halter, rivets classic gleaming metal](https://www.skullflow.com/collections/all/products/gothic-sexy-strapless-bra). It’s [opened toed chunky high heels, red with skulls](https://www.sinistersoles.com/Chunky-Heel-SKULL-PRINT-Peep-Toe-Pumps-p/s-ellie-557-skully-shoes.htm). It’s so fucking sexy he feels turned on just looking at it all.

“If I’ve got it wrong and this isn’t your thing, I’ll take it back. But when Meg showed me the shoes, I figured gothporn. Was I right?”

“They’re very, uh. Beautiful. But she explained how I said I couldn’t wear that kinda stuff, right?”

“Yeah, it’s girls stuff. Except that’s twat, because I picked up this kit at Hermes Closet. You know what that is, Ryebread?”

Meg decides to tag team him. “A men’s lingerie store. And guess what. They have high heels up to size fourteen.”

Ryan has no doubt that Los Santos of all places has a whole store dedicated to cross dressing. The city of vices, after all. What still is in question is if it’s okay that the longer he looks at it, the closer to half mast he’s getting. Is something inappropriate okay if many people do it? Is something inappropriate okay if there’s a gorgeous specimen of manhood in from of him in Forever 21 short shorts and high heeled boots?

“So what do you say, Rye? Want to try it on and fool around? Give me a stern talking to about all the friends I have?”

“I said I was sorry for that.”

“Relax, I’m being saucy. I’ve always want to be disciplined by a sexy lady in high heels. And that outfit’s not going to fit Meg.”

Ryan caves, and can’t even manage to feel guilty. Maybe the shame will come in later, maybe not. The longer people live in this city, the more they break down. It’s possible Gavin’s gold nail polished hand on his clad ass will be Ryan’s last straw. Even deciding that that’s future him’s problem is a slip in morality. But Ryan pushes that all away, and momentarily drapes the bag on the couch so he can peel off his shirt and jeans.

The fabric feels as good as he’s always wished he didn’t fantasize about. The silk is angel feathers against his most sensitive skin. The leather is cold, but Ryan knows it’ll warm up. The shoes are, honestly speaking, painful. High heels like this don’t exactly provide arch support. Thing is, it’s totally worth the pain. 

As he’s been dressing, Meg and Gavin have been undressing. Meg’s down to panties, some nyan cat fan art print from Redbubble or something. They’re not sexy, except for how they’re Meg’s, and Ryan is seeing them. Gavin is only in his knee high boots. Ryan doesn’t know what’s more absurd, struggling to get his jeans and undies off overtop of them, or taking everything off then putting them back on. He has to admit though that Gavin looks good in them. His spray tan golden skin sets off the black very nicely.

“Can we take this slow? Maybe save the sex for next time?”

“So you agree that there will be a next time?” Meg replies.

Ryan capitulates. “How could there not be? I look good.” Or, at least, he feels good. That’s almost more important than how he actually physically looks.

“I mean, I’ve already got my kit off. Can I renegotiate you to wanking?”

Meg reaches out and slaps Gavin’s stomach. “You don’t negotiate a no, asshole.”

“I’ll rephrase. Ryan, you mind if I wank off, looking at your pretty arse in those pretty knickers?”

Ryan is nearly positive he’s blushing. He can’t remember ever getting a better compliment. “Uh. Go ahead?”

“Cool,” Meg chirps. “I’m gonna do it too!”

It should be embarrassing to be on display like this, the centre of attention as he dresses against what twenty five years of socialization says is proper. Instead, he preens. He poses, and he preens.


End file.
